


The Storyteller

by Avastudios



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cherrywood University, Gen, He's kind of right, Jack just wants to study humans, Judy wants to be an anime hero, Mazy has bad habits, Might post this on Wattpad, Mucket thinks they're all idiots, Please enjoy!, Riccardo weeps over their health, and fails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avastudios/pseuds/Avastudios
Summary: In which a young writer wants to be a hero, and finds that it's not all it's cracked up to be.





	1. ~THE RIDE~

_Thick, black trees loomed in the distance. Vines curled around the trunks like snakes. Tall grass pushed its way out of the ground, beckoning her forward._

_Nora stared._

_The forest was potentially the most terrifying thing she had ever faced. Which was really saying something, given her colorful history with terror._

_But if she wanted that staff, she would have to go through it. There were no other options._

_Taking a deep breath, the girl clenched her fists and strode into the dark habitat. Into the unknown._

_~~Where who-knows-what waited for her.~~ _

_~~Where her enemy lay.~~ _

~~_Where the temple stood, waiting for her presenc_ ~~

_Fudge_.

For some people, it could be hard to come up with some dramatic-sounding quote to end a scene. Especially when the rest of the paragraph had been flowing so smoothly.

Judy was one such person.

“Judy, can you please look at me? It’s been hours. We’re 25 minutes away.”

Judy didn't raise her head, instead keeping her eyes glued to the page, her teeth digging into the pink eraser.

The notebook was a moleskin, rough and torn with leather straps to tie around it. Bought at SlipMart for five dollars. _An adventurer’s journal,_ she’d insist.

The scene was slow and steady. She’d been working on it on-and-off for the past hours, alternating between putting pencil to paper and staring out the window.

Skyscrapers had bled into fields, which had bled into forests. Now they were here.

Not that she knew where ‘here’ was.

"Judy, for the love of Christ, will you at least look up?” Her mother finally snapped, her voice cracking with something besides it’s usual exasperation.

It was enough to make Judy raise her head and look over.

"That’s better. Look, I know you're not happy about this. I can see why. We're going to a very different place than Lightwyn-”

"I’ll say.” Judy mumbled.

It was the first thing she’d said the whole ride. And was true. This place, with its ultra-green grass and pine trees, growing taller and thicker with every mile, was nothing like the blaring neon colors and hum of cars and screens that echoed throughout the city of Lightwyn. She hadn't seen a car for about 20 miles. Who knew what the actual town would be like?

Her mother was still talking- “But it’s going to be good, Judy. You’ll see. Just think of this as an adventure.”

Odd words, coming from a woman who normally couldn't stand adventures. But hey, maybe everything- the divorce, this move- had changed them all.

It had certainly changed Judy.

She rolled over, running a hand across her books leather cover. Despite all their stuff, packed into the trunk and floorboards, the car still seemed too bare.

Namely, the seat next to her.

Judy grunted and flopped back down. Her fluffy brown hair splayed out as she rested her head against the seat and tossed the notebook aside. The window was the only thing between her and the blurs of deep green, rushing by.

"You’ll see.” Her mother whispered. Her hands gripped the wheel a little tighter than necessary, “It’ll be good. You’ll see.”

A sign suddenly appeared up ahead. Judy frowned and raised her head, squinting through the window. It was old and rickety, as though crafted from driftwood. It stood next to the trees, having emerged seemingly from nowhere, opening its arms to greet the duo.

Metaphorically, of course.

Behind it was a clearing, nestled among the trees, with actual road instead of dirt.

A good sign, in Judy’s opinion.

Words flashed at them as they drove past:

                **Welcome to Twin Pines**

"This is it.” And for the first time since _The Conflict_ , Judy’s mom actually had a smile on her face.

A tired, weary smile, with crows feet lining her eyes, but a smile nonetheless, “Welcome home.”

Welcome indeed.


	2. ~THE NEW DWELLING~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero reaches her new dwelling

The minute Judy’s eyes landed on the house, she was almost willing to embrace this whole move thing. To wipe away all her grumpiness, kiss her mom, and do a dance on the roof of the car.

All because of the house.

Which was a cabin, by the way.

“Careful!” Her mother’s voice called from somewhere around the porch, “Some of the carpets haven't been dry cleaned!”

What carpets? The entire floor was solid wood.

She dropped her pack and started down the hall.  
Her room was at the end, right next to the bathroom and her mother’s potential bedroom. And boy, did it hit home.

It was a big room. Weirdly big. Though maybe that was just her not being used to having her own. 

The walls and floor were bare, just like everything else. The room was also lit with the strong scent of pinewood, one which set her nostrils tingling. And call her crazy, but there was just something about its shadowy corners and creaky boards that told her that it would like to stay bare, thank you very much. No furniture for me, I’m good! 

The thing that caught her eye the most was the huge window, sitting on the opposite wall. The pane was dirty, and there was only a dusty, heavy set of curtains which prevented her from peering out into the lush green forest. No lock.

A quick look around the rest of the house only confirmed Judy’s leftover suspicions: it was an old thing, though not too old, which explained why her mother had picked it off the market. It was made of logs- pine- to be specific, with a shiny tin roof. It had a living room (no TV), bathroom, a basic kitchen, two bedrooms, and a porch. 

That wasn't the end. 

The previous homeowner clearly hadn't been a fan of dusters. Pine needles rapped at the windows. Lastly, it was set somewhere uphill in the woods, cut off from the rest of the small town. A town that Judy hadn't even seen, as they hadn't had to drive by it when coming here. 

Judy loved it.

How could she have possibly gotten so lucky? Who’s idea had it been to buy this? Not her mom’s, surely.

She would think it was disgusting. 

But Judy; Judy could easily imagine all her fairytale dreams playing out in the midst of this stilted, pine-smelling house. Talking to fairies by her window. A boggart in the cupboard. Something dark and hissing slithering beneath the floorboards. 

Or else doing regular teenage stuff, like talking on the phone or doing homework or just sitting on her bed and writing to her heart's content.

It was almost perfect.

But it wasn't. Because it was missing something.

“Are you going to help me unpack?”

Judy looked back. The beaming grin that had been there just a moment ago slipped off her face. 

Her mother stood behind her, wiping her hands on her jeans. She was a short, stout woman, with wrinkles in her brow and hair that was the same hickory brown as Judy’s. The only difference was that it was held back by a piece of tied cloth, whilst Judy’s swept her shoulders.

Her name was Jennifer Moreland, even though just last December it had been Green. She was trying to make her best out of an unfortunate situation. Whether or not she was succeeding was up for debate.

“I don't have much to unpack.” Judy claimed, still looking up at the ceiling, at the walls. Earlier she had made prompt decision not to speak. Now she was issuing a brief suspension from that order.. Because really, the effort only exhausted her and irritated her mother, and what was the point, now that they were here, in this glorious house?

“Really? I have several boxes of books, electronics, and other stuff to say otherwise.”

Judy clamped her mouth shut and stepped back. The windows were old and bare. Their only curtains were a layer of dust.

“Mom?”

Jennifer dragged the last box up onto the porch and rifled through it. She frowned and muttered to herself.

“Mom?”

Judy stepped up behind her.

“What is it, Judy?”

“Where did you get the money for this house?”  
Judy knew she should be careful when mentioning anything related to their current situation, especially finances. Despite their previous wealth, they weren't exactly rolling in doe. Nevertheless, this house was just too awesome. And her mom wasn't the rural type.

Jennifer frowned, yanking a battery charger free from the box. A whole tangle of other cords came with it. She sighed, “I used some of the money I’d been saving up. Don't worry about. It’s all I could afford.”

Judy nodded. Her heart twisted at the bitterness in her mother’s tone. She glanced around the old porch. 

“There...was no other reason? It was just about the money?”

That couldn't be it. There had to be something more, because it was just too good to be about that.

It had to be about her.

Judy looked down at her mother and, for the for the first time since TOUGH NEWS, smiled.

Jennifer didn't look up. She huffed and shoved her headband back. 

“No, that’s it. But who knows, maybe in a year or so we can afford something better. A condo or something. Until then, just stick it out and don't complain about the Wifi.”

Judy’s smile faded. She scuffed a boot against the wood, looking at her mother in disbelief. 

“That’s it?”

Jennifer didn't bat an eye, “What more do you want? It’s an adjustment but it’ll work. And here-”

She shoved the box of wires at Judy, who hastily caught it- “Put those in the kitchen. We’ll figure out where they should go later.”

She stood up and made a move for the steps, dusting her hands off on her once expensive shirt

And Judy could only stare, standing on her rickety porch while holding a box of wires to be carried inside a house that had suddenly lost some of it’s glow.

Overhead, pine needles batted against the tin roof.


	3. ~THE SLEEPLESS TAPS~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our Hero can't sleep, and finds it's no fault of her own

Judy couldn't sleep.

 

Which really sucked, seeing as how she’d have really liked too.

 

Yet there was something about the raindrops plunking her window. About the pine trees batting against the tin roof.

 

It was soothing, yet unnerving. It kept her awake, but also made her want to go to sleep. To drift off into a never-ending void, filled only by her own mellow thoughts.

 

...That was good. She'd have to use that.

 

Scrunched under the comforter, Judy closed her eyes and tried to imagine that scene.

 

_The singing was eerie, yet soothing. It comforted her, but at the same time made every hair on Nora’s head stand on end._

 

_A banshee._

 

Judy hadn't been able to write. Her mother had made her go to bed. She stood in the doorway, watching her put on pajamas. She'd even supervised her climbing into bed.

 

"You need sleep.” she said, “We have a big day tomorrow.”

 

Of what, she hadn't specified. Jennifer was like that. She didn't tell her daughter things. Which was fine, because most of it was just boring complaints and scolding and finances and just…

 

Fine.

 

Whatever.

 

Raindrops were still bouncing off the window. Judy snuggled underneath the sheets, letting one arm down over the side of the bed.

 

She tried to imagine what it’d be like to sleep in the forest. Would it be too cold? Or would she be able to bundle up beneath piles of leaves. Maybe she could find a stone to keep her warm. Or a cave.

 

The floorboard creaked.

 

Judy’s eyes opened.

 

The room had gone completely dark. There was something tapping. Tap tap tapping at her windowsill.

 

Cleanly.

 

Precisely.

 

Judy’s heart sped up.

 

Slowly, so slowly, she pushed the covers back and slid out of out of bed. The floorboards felt cold-and oddly damp-beneath her feet. She moved, barely blinking, one foot in front of the other, towards the window. So slowly.

 

God, it was like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. Maybe this was just some weird vision and she was still in her bed and would be woken up on the floor in the morning by her Mom’s annoyed voice.

"Honestly, Judy. I told you to stop reading those horror stories before bed. No wonder you're always having nightmares.”

 

"Yeah, blame the nightmares on the stories, Mom.”

 

But maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was real.

 

A slow grin spread across her face.

 

And then she was there, standing in front of the window.

 

Her hands gripped the sill.

 

Some part of Judy recognized that she most definitely looked insane, standing in the dark, about to open the window after hearing strange noises during a thunderstorm. If her mom walked in…

 

But another part didn't care because this was so _cool_ and it was _happening_.

 

And it was sick.

 

Her fingers fumbled with the latch. The rain was pelting now, harder than ever. Was it still tapping? She could swear it was.

 

 _Tap tap tapping_.

 

She tipped the latch.

 

'Don't open it all the way. Pull it up slowly.’ were her thoughts.

 

But her excitement-craving mind barely registered them.

 

'This is it. This is happening.’ She pulled up the window.

 

 _Crash_!

 

Thunder clapped.

 

Rain soaked her clothes.

 

Judy stood there, eagerly peering out into the darkness.

 

Nothing.

 

Something twinged in her stomach. The tapping had stopped.

 

She waited a minute longer, then huffed and stuck her head out the window,

 

"Hello? Anyone there?”

 

Her voice was barely audible over the boom of the rain.

 

_Anyone in the mood to kidnap me? Carry me into the darkness, with the night sky flashing!_

 

The rain was so hard. She could barely keep her eyes open.

 

Judy squinted, calling out one last, "Hello?”

 

Nothing.

 

Judy lingered, feeling the drops beat against her forehead, then slowly pulled herself in and locked the window. She stood there a moment, allowing the mortification of her predicament sink in. Here she was, standing in her bedroom at who-knew-what-hour, in the dark.

 

Alone.

 

Her pajamas were completely soaked. Water dripped off her hair. She knew in the morning it would be a frizzy mess.

 

No one was at the window.

 

"Well screw you! Be like that! See if I care!”

 

Judy turned, marching away. She didn't care if her mother heard, if the whole world heard.

 

She collapsed in bed, yanking the sheets over her head. The covers felt damp.

 

She rolled over, deliberately not looking at the window, at it’s stupid, heavy curtains and stupid, locked sill where nobody was.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the world, to show it the feeling was mutual.

 

Overhead, the rain pounded the tin roof.


	4. ~THE JOURNEY~

“Judy, did you get enough sleep?”

The spoon scraped the edge of her bowl. Corn flakes slid off, dropping like soldiers into the soggy milk.

Blearily, Judy frowned, peering down.

“Yeah.” she mumbled, “Why wouldn't I?”

Jennifer glanced back, then sighed, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Honestly, why do I even bother? I tell you to get some rest, we have a big day, and I’m ignored.”

“Yes.”

“Ignored. Just like that. It’s like everything I say goes in one ear and comes out the other.”

“Hmmmm...”

The tabletop suddenly looked very inviting. If she could lay her head down on the table and sleep...dream.

Dream of wizards and warlocks. Of old wooden swords and magic and mayhem.

Dream…

“Judy!”

“What-?”

Judy’s head snapped up. The floor behind her was immediately showered as bits of cereal and milk were flung back. The rest dropped from Judy's hair, soaking the counter.

“What?”

“See?! _This_! This is what I’m talking about!”

Jennifer gestured furiously. Furiously to her daughter, with bags under her eyes and milk-soaked hair.

“This is ridiculous!”

“Right.”

Judy returned to her cereal, and lifted the clammy spoon into her mouth. It tasted wet and clammy.

Still, she took her time chewing.

“Take a ten hour car ride, a whole day of unpacking, moving furniture, and you're still not tired enough to go to bed when you're told.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don't ‘uh huh’ me. You know I’m right. You never go to bed when you're told, never listen, and it’s all thanks to those stupid novels-”

Oh.

Now that was a line.

“I wasn't reading!”

Judy’s palms hit the table as she jumped up, kicking the chair back. Her spoon clattered into the bowl.

Outside, an unexpectedly hard gust of wind pulled back a branch, beating it furiously against the cabin wall.

A choked silence descended upon the room.

Jennifer stared, paralyzed, at her daughter’s angry form. Her hands froze, the dish rag swinging loosely in her grip. Hair swung free from her headband, which had slipped forward. She didn't bother to fix it.

Instead Jennifer continued to stare at Judy with wide, almost terrified eyes. As though she expected her to explode, or run away.

Judy sunk into her seat. A curtain of hair closed around her face.

She was sure if she was an elf, her pointy ears would be twitching.

A thin finger reached up, tracing watery lines out of the drops of milk on the table.

“I was thinking…”

The words tumbled from her lips, awkward and aborted. Almost by accident.

“I was hoping that I could go out, maybe, and explore the town today? There will be plenty of people.”

They seemed to unstick the goopy atmosphere.

Jennifer blinked, as though coming out of a trance, then shuddered. Comprehension slid into her eyes.

And then, Judy recognized with growing frustration, uncertainty.

“Judy, I’m not sure-”

“It’ll just be a walk! We're right next to the town. I won't go anywhere I shouldn't.”

“But don't you think we should introduce ourselves as a family? As mother and daughter?”

Jennifer’s hands rung the rag. So absurdly delicate, with no calluses or even a bruise, to be clutching a ratty cloth.

And yet their they were, clasped together, nearly pleading with her daughter.

And if Judy had looked at her mother, if she had snuck a glance at her huge brown eyes and trembling shoulders, she might have noticed.

Noticed her trembling shoulders, her desperate, pleading stance.

Noticed the way her eyes had begun to shine.

But she didn't.

Because she was too focused on the screen door, on shoving on her boots and grabbing her journal, on getting _away_ from the house that just last night she’d been so excited to live in.

And so when she finally pulled her eyes away from the door, and looked at her mother, unmoving, she didn't see anything unusual. Instead, she continued with her pleading.

“I’ll stay on the path. I won't get lost. I just want to look at all the cool stores-” there was a not-so-quiet snort from Jennifer, “-and homes.”

Judy bent herself over the table, clasping her hands in prayer.

“Pleeeeeease, Mom?”

For a moment, Jennifer hesitated. Her mouth curved, ready to release a solid ‘No.’ To keep everything on schedule. To finish unpacking.

To spend a single, solitary day alone with her daughter.

Then she caught sight of Judy’s face, and faltered.

Her eyes darted between the door and her child, trying to think: ‘What's the lesser of two evils?’

Her short figure sagged, and she sighed.

“Fine. But you need to be back by 5:00, don't become lost, make sure your shoes are tied, watch the road, stay on the path-”

Judy was on the porch, backpack slung around, the screen door slamming before Jennifer could even finish her sentence.

                  ***********

Rocks crunching beneath her boots, Judy didn't even bother looking where she was going.

Instead she just picked a random direction and started off.

Wasn't that what good adventurers did? Took chances? Left it up to the fates?

The more she more marched, the more the house lights began to fade. Until at last any trace of civilization was washed away by the cool lull of scratchy needles and crickets.

She kept moving.

The needles grew thicker. A warm breeze blew through the trees, rustling her hair.

Angry as she was, Judy had to admit: It was an easy forest to get lost in.

The longer she walked the denser the trees became.

Taller too, until they towered over her like skyscrapers, blocking out the sun.

_Like giants._

And, oddly enough, there were no sounds.

Judy had always pictured the mountains like to be a lot like the city, only with different sounds; a frog croaking, some squirrels chattering, maybe the roar of a mountain lion.

But it was nearly silent, apart from the swaying of the trees.

Oddly peaceful.

Unlike the horns and yells and whirs that came with Lightwyn.

Judy paused, foot-above-the-ground, and looked around.

‘I could get used to this.’ she thought, and marched on.

For the most part, she was right. The trees were getting taller, just as the pine needles were getting thicker.

So thick no part of the ground was visible.

Not that Judy had noticed, of course. She was too busy thinking.

Not dreaming.

Thinking.

About their apparently-temporary new home.

About the move.

About her mother.

About him.

The more she thought the more irritated she grew, until eventually she felt ready to explode.

Angrily, her foot lashed out at a nearby rock.

It missed. Instead the tip of her boot landed in a pile of soft dirt.

The dirt crumbled.

And Judy fell.

Before she had time to comprehend what had happened, Judy had already hit the water.

The only thing she did have time to comprehend was the mud in her shoe, a moment of weightlessness, followed by a shock of cold as well as the heaviness of her backpack.

Judy emerged from the creek coughing and sputtering.

Palming the water from her eyes, she looked up for the expected: the area where she had just stood, now bearing a crumbled edge, had actually been the bank of a creek.

The very steep bank to a very cold creek.

Judy groaned and dragged herself out of the water.

Settling herself on the dirt, she began to inspect her backpack.

It was nothing serious. Her notebook-thank God-was fine, mostly because of its protective leather casing. Her pencils were wet but writeable. The flashlight still worked. All her other supplies were mostly replaceable, though it looked like they too had survived their brief swim.

With that in mind, the young adventurer turned her attention to herself. It wasn't a welcome task.

Judy’s previously dry hair was now dripping wet, leaking water down her shoulders and into her eyes. Her clothes were a sopping mess. They clung to Judy, soaking her bare skin and accentuating the sharp bones of her back, her wrists, her knees.

The sun did nothing to help. Despite it being summer, something about the woods seemed to be compelling heat. Perhaps it was the tallness of the trees, or the chill of the water.

Nevertheless, it was clear nature would offer no help in this situation.

And so there Judy sat, on the edge of the bank, water in her clothes and needles in her hair. As she stared at her muddy shoes, she felt anger begin to mount inside her.

Anger at the creek. Anger at her inability to look where she was going, one of the most basic things an adventurer should know.

Anger that her mom was right.

“No.” the words broke free of her mouth, “No, she wasn't right.”

At first her words flew up, up into the air. Towards the treetops. To the sky. But they had barely gotten past the third branches before a sucking feeling began. Wobbling, the words were pulled away. Away from loose air and clouds. Away from the sun and blueness of the sky.

The forest swallowed them, then smacked its tangy lips.

There was a deep sigh in the form of a wind.

It gusted through trees, rusting branches, scattering pine needles, sending critters skittering into their homes.

Ruffling short brown hair.

Judy opened her eyes and looked around.

Trees, trees, more trees-there.

It was a piece of wood-no, not a piece of wood, a wall.

No, not a wall.

A house.

Judy scrambled to her feet and quickly moved forward.

It was a house, a few feet away from the brooke nestled between two particularly-overgrown trees.

Abandoned, it seemed.

Which, Judy mused, was no surprise, given the state of it.

The wood was old and rotten. The windows were gray, dusty, cracked and boarded. The roof, bent at an odd angle, looked as though it was trying to decide whether to cave in.

Judy stepped up to the door-or the place where a door would be-and peered inside.

Black.

Black as tar.

Black as night.

Perhaps a smarter person would've taken a moment to consider their choices.

Perhaps they would have considered they're wet clothes and heavy backpack and decided to call it a day. Perhaps they would've thought of how the sun had begun to lower in the sky. Perhaps they would've thought about how little they knew these woods, or any of this area.

Perhaps they would've taken one look at this creepy little shack and thought, no way.

But Judy was not one of those people, and didn't consider herself particularly smart either. She was just an adventurer, with dripping hair, a backpack full of twine, and a thirst to experience something, anything.

It was precisely that thirst that had Judy stepping into the darkness.

 


	5. ~THE MONSTER~

_As Nora wandered through the dark cabin, she felt a chill rush up her cloak, into her hair. Shivering, she turned to stare into the dark abyss. Her dark hand reached for her sword._

Something was coming.

Judy had no idea where to go. The wooden boards creaked and moaned with every move she made. One wrong step and her foot would go through one.

The shack was big. Judy found this rather strange, as it had definitely looked very small from the outside.

Then again, maybe the trees had hidden the rest of it.

Her knees bumped into something. It felt like a table.

Judy staggered, then winced at the resounding _crash!_

‘Fudge. It’s too dark. I need to see.’

And then she remembered.

‘Dummy. You have a flashlight.’

Shrugging off her bag, Judy carefully knelt on the floor and began rummaging through it. It took several minutes of digging through piles of twine, Blueblast Bars, a bottle full of pennies, but eventually she found it.

Pulling it out, she checked the batteries once more before hitting the switch.

Immediately, light flooded the area.

Admittedly, the shack wasn't much to look at. The floor was old and dusty, while the windows were boarded up.

However, there were a few things leftover. Such as an old shredded couch-claw marks?-propped near the center of the room, as well as a bookshelf leaned against the wall.

The bookshelf in particular interested Judy, and so she edged closer to inspect the titles.

_**Mary and the Aristocrats** _

_**Doby Mick** _

_**Little Ladies** _

Judy frowned.

All these books were classics, ones she had been made to read for school.

Why was there a shelf full of them?

Had they been left here?

And if so, why did they look worn?

Shaking her head, Judy briefly considered the possibility of grabbing a few on her way out before turning to inspect the floor.

It had been an urn she’d broken. A heavy one, by the looks of it.

Millions of multicolored shards littered the floor, glinting in the light.

Judy picked one up, turning it over and over and in her hand.

‘Okay, this really is weird now.’

If someone had lived in this house before, why would they leave all this stuff?

When Judy had moved, she’d made sure to gather up everything she owned, big or small?

What had stopped these people from doing the same?

Judy fumbled for the leather laces of her bag. As she did, the shard slipped free of her fingers and hit the floor.

There was _clack!_

Frowning, Judy pointed her flashlight downwards.

Stone.

Where wood crept forward, stone had quickly replaced. Hard, solid, and gray.

Judy looked up and pointed her light directly in front of her.

As she did, she saw something surprisingly unexpected.

It was a cave.

A cave, embedded directly in the wall of the shack.

It was oddly smooth and clean, a stark contrast to the rest of the shack.

As though someone had been using it.

Judy moved forward, examining it. The beam of her flashlight rushed several feet into the cave. The rest was swallowed up by darkness.

Judy felt a flutter of excitement.

‘So this is why they moved!’

She took a step forward, only for her toes to hit something.

For a moment Judy frowned, and paused to peer down.

White.

It was a white stick-no, not a stick. Sticks weren't usually that thick. Nor did they have that milky tone.

So what-

Oh.

Slowly, Judy backed up. Her foot hit something else.

Then another.

Then another.

There was a lot, actually, she realized, turning the light this way and that.

A lot of white sticks, scattered around the ground.

Piled up near the furniture, at the entrance of the cave.

A lot of bones.

_Nora stared, appalled at the graveyard in front of her. So appalled she could barely speak, could barely reach for her sword. Could barely notice what was creeping up behind her._

“Well, then. What is this?”

The words were halfway between growl and a purr.

Judy froze.

Slowly, she turned around.

Brown eyes met yellow.

The thing behind her was not truly human, yet it wasn't an animal either. It sat, draped across the couch, one paw lazily tracing the armrest

It's fur was was a sour shade of mustard, dotted with black spots like a leopard, it’s ears pointed and pricked like a cats.

It flicked its tail, long and slender. Yet the end was puffed out, rounded and shaped like a feather duster, and filled to the brim with spines.

‘Needles.’

It’s face was the kicker. It was completely, undeniably human, bar the fur and button nose. It held a perfect twist of mirth, hunger, all accompanied by a predatory gleam in its eyes.

It’s yellow eyes. Staring at her in the darkness.

Judy’s fingers went limp. The flashlight slid from her hand. Its plastic hit the floor with a dull thump as it rolled away.

“What is it that decided to enter my cave, wonder my tunnel...break my vase.”

It’s eyes flicked over to the pile of shards. The millions of shards, Judy thought, a lump growing in her throat. The millions of cracked pieces littering the floor.

Still, she attempted to compose herself. To gather her wits.

Judy may have been scared out of her mind, but she was also an adventurer. And no good adventurer, she was sure, would simply stand there shaking while a monster came to gobble them up.

And so, gathering what was left of her wits and swallowing the lump in her throat, she spoke.

“My name is Judy.”

The things eyebrows drew up, and it tilted its head, surveying Judy with something of interest.

“Oh? What’s this? It speaks, and to give me its name, no less.”

“I-no. Well, yes-” Judy cleared her throat, rang her hands. The flashlight had rolled somewhere to her left, and was now shining its beam past the couch, allowing the flick of the tail to make eery shapes on the wall.

“I came to for a walk. I wanted to see the woods, smell the air-”

“And you ended up here.”

“...yes.”

Judy's feet were instinctively stepping back, peddling away of their own accord. The creature seemed amused.

“I see.”

Slowly, it slinked it’s way off the sofa. It's paws barely made a sound as they touched the hard floor. It's claws, Judy thought, breathing shallow, must be sheathed within the tufts of fur.

Oddly enough, the thought didn't do much to comfort her.

Perhaps because she was in the middle of reliving every sword fight she'd read in which the character whipped out their saber before their antagonist was even able to reach for theirs and killed them.

“You know, out of all the creatures which have wandered into this shack I have rarely received a human.”

The creature’s tail twitched, making an odd rattling sound. Judy felt something nudge at the back of her mind, and ignored it in favor of taking another step back.

“Perhaps it’s because my lair is hidden away, away from all those other distractions. Perhaps it’s because-after seeing so many of their friends and family disappear-they've grown wise. Or-”

It took another step, and this time Judy could hear the claws, scraping the floor.

“Perhaps they've decided it's simply not worth finding out what's hidden in the strange, seemingly-abandoned little shack.”

“...Yeah?”

Judy would forever despise herself for not being able to force anything more clever than this out of her throat.

But she was scrawny, fearful, and her heart pounded in her ears as she took yet another step away from the great beast crawling forward

“Yes. Though it doesn't matter. There is one thing I've come to refer to all of my visitors as.

It was in front of her now, just three feet away. Judy could see it’s claws, razor sharp and stained, glittering in the beam of the flashlight.

And still, against her better judgement, she muttered, “What’s that?”

The creature crouched, it’s teeth gleaming, malice glittering in the eyes of it’s oddly-human face.

Wait…

Oddly-human face.

" _Dinner_."

Manticore, Judy thought, and barely had time to scream as it pounced.

Her elbows jabbed the rock as she rolled aside, scrambling to her feet. On her back, her rucksack trembled and heaved. She ignored it and got to her feet, panting and backing away.

The manticore, landing directly where Judy would have been, twisted around to look at her. It's teeth pulled into a snarl as it prepared to pounce.

Judy, ears ringing with panic, looked around, desperately trying to locate an exit. But it was no use. The only entrance was the one she had used to come in. The one that was currently blocked by the manticore.

And then, as the manticore once more pounced at its prey, Judy was forced to make up her mind.

Weighed down by her heavy backpack, the young adventurer half-dashed, half-stumbled into the darkness of the cave, the manticore hot on her heels.

            *******************

The chase lasted for about ten minutes, but to Judy it felt like hours. Her feet burned, her back felt ready to snap, and she was too busy berating herself to bother focusing on where she stepped.

_Idiot idiot IDIOT! Why go looking in this cave? Why didn't you just stay at home and listen to music?_   
_Now you're being chased in the dark by some hungry mythological creature and it's all YOUR FAULT!!!’_

She didn't notice the slope of rocks ahead, so it was no surprise when she tripped and face planted the damp ground.

Unfortunately, this also gave her pursuer an edge.

One minute Judy was laying on the ground, chest flat against the wet stone.

Then the weight on her back increased tenfold, and there was an unseemly crunch! as a pair of teeth tore through the thick fabric.

Judy screamed, losing all control as she flailed about.

The manticore’s teeth shredded her bag, its claws digging into the floor on either of her sides.

Somehow she managed to roll herself over and, using all her strength, shoved the creature. Of course, the impact wasn't nearly enough to wound it. However, as its teeth were still stuck in the bag, it was enough to cause it to stumble back.

Judy, knowing time was of the essence, blindly reached out and snatched the first thing she felt.

She turned to run-and was greeted with darkness.

And a cold, stone wall.

The girl’s heart sank. Of course. The cave had a dead point, and she had reached it.

Now what?

A growl from behind drew her attention. The manticore had torn its teeth from the bag, and was focusing its attention on her. Slowly, it came forward, closer and closer until Judy could see the white’s of it’s irises, could see it's pupils-

Oh no.

It was in a total fit of desperation that Judy threw herself against the stone wall. There was an opening, a little nitch in the rock. Just large enough for her body.

As she did, her fingers fumbled with device in her hand. One found a button. It pressed it.

And suddenly the cave was lit up with a blazing, almost unearthly glow from the lighter in her hand.

The manticore hissed, sliding back. Judy scrambled against the wall, her breathing harsh and ragged. Her chest ached, and a bruise roughly the size of a grapefruit patched her knee.

But she was alive.

For the moment, anyway.

“Get back.” Judy choked. The creatures eyes followed her hand as she waved the lighter back and forth.

“Stay there or-or I’ll burn you!” she said.

The manticore paused, staring at the dancing flame.

“You wouldn't.” it said, though it didn't sound certain.

Judy hesitated. Would she?

This was the first magical creature she had ever encountered. And she had wandered into its home, went through its books, and broke its vase.

She had also been chased through a cave, nearly torn apart, and injured.

“Yes. I swear I will.”

The creatures eyes flicked to Judy, then the lighter. Judy, then the lighter.

It paused.

Then:

“It doesn't matter. You are still stuck here. And when your ‘weapon’” it made quotations with its fingers, which frankly should have been impossible, seeing as how it didn't have fingers, “Runs our, I will be waiting.”

And with that it slunk down, curling itself up on the floor like an enormous jungle cat. Watching. Waiting.

Judy blinked.

“It-it won't run out.”

The manticore tilted its head.

“Won't it? Look how the flame dances. Feel how damp the cave is. No, it's only a matter of time before you're engulfed in darkness. And when it happens-” it grinned, showing every inch of pointy, white teeth, “I will claim my dinner.”

“We’ll see.” Judy managed, hands shaking.

The manticore nodded.

“Yes. We will.”

Then it laid its head on its paws and waited.


End file.
